A Scandal in London
by umbrellasarecool
Summary: When Sherlock and John are no longer popular, it's up to the consulting PA and her colleague to make them Internet famous via Tumblr. Post-Reichenbach


**Author's Note:** This piece is my first ever completed fanfic, written for Alex and Devin who co-run the most brilliant johnlock recs blog on Tumbr. Hope you guys like it as much as they did!

A Scandal in London

Life was... never the same again.

It's been three years since Sherlock jumped from the roof of St. Bart's. Three years since the world's greatest fraud took a cowardly leap instead of facing up to the consequences of his lies. Three years since the papers had been filled with stories on Sherlock Holmes, the psychopath, the mass-murderer who set up crime scenes only to have the pleasure of taking them apart in front of the authorities.

Now John sat in his chair, laptop open on his knees as he checked his blog again. No new messages, no more hits on his page, not even hate mail. John sighed and put the laptop away, absently massaging his thigh.

Ever since Sherlock had returned, a couple of months ago, his life had changed surprisingly little. John had imagined countless times what would happen if Sherlock showed up on his doorstep one day with an explanation and that spark in his eyes that John associated with a particularly interesting case. He never gave up hope, no matter how much everyone around him seemed to thing it wasn't healthy to hang on to the memory of a dead man for so long.

Mary understood, of course. It was one of the reasons why he married her. She understood why he was reluctant to leave Baker Street, why he spoke so often of Sherlock in the present tense. John knew she loved him more than he would ever be able to love her, that his heart was missing an important piece and he could only give her a broken stub of affection. But he married her anyway. And she left, after a while. And he returned to Baker Street. And he felt not regret, nor remorse, but relief.

When John found Sherlock standing by the window, staring at the street below with his violin tucked under his chin, bow hovering just above the strings, he thought perhaps things would go back to the way they had been. But one press conference could not clear his name in the eyes of the public. One criminal mastermind delivered on the doorstep of the Interpol couldn't restore the almost-trust that the police force once had in his abilities. And Lestrade, for all his apologies, could not bring him on cases anymore without his superiors declaring him incapable of handling his job and taking him off the case.

Sherlock was back. He didn't have any cases. He was seriously considering calling Mycroft to give him _something. _

John limped into the kitchen. He was _bored_.

Sherlock jumped at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. They weren't Mrs. Hudson's (too quick), nor John's (no limp, he thought bitterly). A case?

He pulled the blue dressing gown around him and walked over the coffee table to open the door. He was almost vibrating with excitement. _Give me something, anything! A petty theft, infidelity, kidnapping!_

He opened the door before the person could knock. He took a step back and the startled lady on the other side took it as invitation, quickly recovering and making her way inside. She took a quick look around, a huge grin lighting up her face, then she seemed to catch herself and quickly schooled her features in a more composed expression.

"Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I am here to change your life!"

Sherlock looked at the offered hand curiously, but hesitated to take it. Instead, he cocked his head to the side and tried to deduce what this strange woman wanted from him. Oddly, it didn't seem to make her uncomfortable like it did most people, quite the contrary. She held herself still with barely-contained delight and smiled openly.

"Sherlock, I heard- oh. Hello," John appeared at the top of the stairs and took in the scene. The woman turned and her smile grew impossibly wider, her hands twisting unconsciously in the fabric of her coat.

"Hello Doctor Watson!" She greeted cheerfully. Sherlock frowned as John looked up to him in confusion.

"You're not here to sell anything or you would have said so by now. You show no signs of distress or unease, which tells me you are unlikely to be here for a case. Irrelevant," Sherlock stalked off towards the sofa, disappointment clear in the way he threw himself back in a foetal position.

"Um... What's your name?" John asked politely, maneuvering the bags from Tesco into the kitchen.

"You can call me Devin. And you're right, I'm not here for a case. Well, not exactly..." She trailed off, and, as expected, Sherlock turned to face her again.

"You are American. Young, I'd say early 20s, probably a student so you're here on a scholarship or some other programme. Not rich, so not holiday. Not relatives, either. Photographer. Also possibly a writer." He pauses, his eyes narrowing.

"Not some sort of desperate undercover journalist, are you? Uh, boring..." He rolls his eyes and flops back down on the sofa.

"No, I'm not a journalist. Though I could be, if it comes to that... No, I am a consulting PA, the only one in the world."

Sherlock looks taken aback by this confession and John stops unpacking and motions her into a chair facing the sofa, while he takes his usual seat.

"So... what are you..." John waves vaguely, a confused look on his face. Sherlock sits up and steeples his fingers, clearly intrigued.

Devin smiles indulgently.

"When celebrities find themselves in a tight spot, meaning their careers seem irrevocably doomed, I work my magic and bring them in the spotlight again. And you seem to be desperately in need of my services."

"Look, we might not... that is, Sherlock isn't as... successful as he once was, but he's just got back, I mean... it's a bit rough at the moment, but-"

"Tell me John, may I call you John? Perfect. John, your blog isn't doing very well, is it? That thing with your wife leaving you and accusing you of neglect, it's terrible PR, you know..."

"Now wait a minute-"

"Miss... Devin," Sherlock interrupted smoothly. "What exactly do you plan to do to rehabilitate my career?"

It seemed that was the question she had been waiting to answer. She took a deep breath and then began explaining:

"Well no-one seems to be paying any attention to you right now. It's not that they don't trust you, that's just the police, mostly. But since you can't go to them for work, you're not in the papers, and that means zero publicity. You were gone for three years, we need something to draw the attention of the media!"

"So a criminal mastermind and the largest organized crime ring are not interesting enough for the public?" Sherlock scoffed and crossed his arms. John could almost swear he was pouting.

"People only care about the cases insofar as they are about you. You remember the success of John's block skyrocketed once his posts focused more on your personal life?"

She turned to John, who nodded numbly. He recalled an argument about tobacco ash and deerstalkers and smiled fondly at the memory.

"We have to make you two interesting again."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Sherlock demanded with an arched brow.

"We make you Internet famous!"

"Sherlock, come and see this!"

"I'm busy John. Experiment."

"No seriously, you have to see this! That-that woman! She-"

"Oh for god's sake... What? What is it?"

Sherlock looked over John's shoulder at his laptop. The browser page showed a site he'd never seen before.

"What is this?"

"Tumblr," John managed weakly. "Look at this."

He typed something in the search bar and the page was instantly filled with pictures of them. Some he recognized from the papers, others he was sure had been taken without their permissions. Others he knew for a fact could not have been real.

"What is _johnlock_?"

"Devin e-mailed me earlier with this link. It seems that the Internet is now obsessed with us..."

"But it's been a week!"

"She said it's only the beginning. Sherlock, what-"

Sherlock promptly confiscated John's laptop and began scrolling through the page. His eyes widened and he gaped, but when John wanted to look over his shoulder Sherlock quickly scrolled through and shook his head. He was blushing, John couldn't help but notice, but he knew it was a lost cause trying to distract him when Sherlock fixated himself on something so he went and made some tea.

"How's it going guys?"

"Uh, Devin, I'm not sure..."

"Got any more messages on your blog?"

"Yes, but that's exactly-"

"Perfect! See, I told you this would work!"

"Devin, they're asking if Sherlock and I want to adopt a boy named Hamish!"

"Oh, it's time for phase two then!"

_Check your e-mail ;-) -Devin_

John sighed and steeled himself for a new wave of weirdness. Ever since the picture incident last week, Sherlock had been eerily silent, hadn't shot the wall once and had refused to let John anywhere near his own laptop. John still couldn't figure out how to efficiently browse the Internet from his phone so he resigned himself to his fate.

A loud yelp from the kitchen pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked up and saw Sherlock blush a rather fetching shade of scarlet.

"Is everything OK?" John asked concerned.

"Y-yes, yes, fine, everything's fine."

Sherlock looked everywhere but at John, refusing to meet his gaze as he snapped the laptop closed.

"Sherlock..."

"I think I left my thumbs in the bathroom, I'll be right back."

Sherlock virtually ran out of the kitchen with none of his customary grace. John frowned and got up, inspecting his laptop as though it might be one of Sherlock's experiments. Well it _was his_, he had every right to peek...

John typed his password and the screen lit up.

Oh god.

_A collection of Johnlock fanfics for our beloved consulting detective and his army doctor. Please feel free to submit your favorite fics and leave us messages in the ask box! Or email us at johnlockfanfic _

As he scrolled a little he found a section entitled _Genre,_ which made him cringe a little, but not nearly as much as the _Tags _list. Just as he was about to explore some more, he heard Sherlock return and closed the computer again. He did **not** feel like having a conversation about it at the moment. Ever.

_How did this happen? -SH_

_I don't know what you mean. -Devin_

_There are pictures. And stories. Hundreds of them, apparently. It's only been three weeks! -SH_

_Don't worry, I have my colleague Alex handling the creative process as you can see. -Devin_

_Did you read them? -Devin_

_Some. -SH_

_Are you absolutely certain it will work? -SH_

_Trust me, I'm a professional. -Devin_

In under four weeks, Devin and Alex had managed to take them from "overlooked" to "juicy gossip". John was painfully reminded by the number of times he had muttered "not his date", "not gay" and other such affirmations before Sherlock's faked suicide and dreaded the endless speculation that was already spreading like wildfire all over the Web. Particularly since they had been advised (threatened) not to discourage the rumors and, if possible, act as though they were in a relationship.

John had vehemently drawn the line at keeping his mouth shut.

Sherlock, on the other hand, seemed to take it all as a sociological experiment. He was fascinated by the concept of influencing the masses via _fangirls, _which to John was a little disturbing. Needless to say, Mycroft appeared to be quite proud of his little brother's scheming and, after he made sure there was no need to have the explicit websites taken down, he amused himself by ordering prints of the artwork and having the Homeless Network put them up around London.

Soon enough, the cases started coming in.

Most of the time, people contacted them in the hope of catching a glimpse of them together. The cases were either made up or incredibly boring, but Sherlock found new ways of amusing himself.

"My husband, I think he might be cheating on me..."

"Is that so? How terrible. John, you know I would never-"

"Yes, quite dreadful. Do you have any evidence...?"

"Well... He spends more and more time at the office..."

"Oh John, about that experiment the other night, I'm sorry, I know you wanted us to-"

"Ahem, well I-I don't think it has to mean anything like that, Mrs. Andrews..."

Sherlock certainly didn't think his actions were inappropriate in any way.

"Sherlock, what are you playing at?"

"Oh John, don't be so melodramatic. Merely an experiment."

"Well could you keep me out of your experiments next time?"

"Impossible. You are a vital part of my observations."

John looked at him and was a little afraid of the mischief lurking in those blue-green eyes.

Sherlock was now more engrossed in his _fandom_ than in his work, and it was starting to worry John. They hadn't had a serious case yet, but Sherlock didn't seem to mind as much as before as he stood cross-legged on the sofa and read the blog Devin and Alex had set up. John was still weary after his first quick peak but was determined to see what the fuss was all about. If it kept Sherlock interested, it must be fascinating. The again, dust was fascinating for Sherlock so maybe he shouldn't get his hopes up.

He was wrong.

It was worse than he could have imagined. He hoped Mrs. Hudson didn't see any of it. It was positively horrendous!

It was hot.

After a few hours spent on Tumblr he felt he understood what was happening with their public lives a bit better. He certainly got why Sherlock was so obsessed with it all, it was obvious that many people put a lot of time and effort into _fanart_ and _fanfiction_, and most of them were quite talented. The stories, especially, made him feel shy of writing up another blog entry ever again, they were so well-written. And, of course, there was the porn.

John shifted uncomfortably in his chair. It was 10:30 PM and he had just read explicit stories involving him and his flatmate. He'd been creeped out at first, but he was determined to go through at least one before abandoning the idea altogether.

_Sherlock's hand stilled and John felt his body tense, and Sherlock pushed back into him, swearing loudly. John leaned over him and pressed his forehead against Sherlock's back, struggling to keep moving. Just the sound of Sherlock's voice as he came was nearly enough to push John over the edge, and the feeling of his arse contracting was glorious. When he was certain Sherlock was done John finally allowed himself to be selfish and fucked him with quick shallow thrusts, pressure right where he needed it._

Oh god. That was the hottest thing he'd ever read in his life, and he was John _Three Bloody Continents_ Watson!

He looked up from his screen to find Sherlock staring intently at him. He was sure his pupils must be blown up and he felt a little flushed, not to mention his elevated heart rate. Sherlock didn't say anything though, just looked at him with his intense gaze, a small smile tugging at the corners of his perfect lips-

Oh god. He was beginning to think like them, too.

John muttered something about going to bed and quickly made his way to his room. Once he got under the sheets he tried desperately to think about football and antibiotics to will his erection away, but it was useless. As he slowly moved his fist over his shaft, he concentrated on images of his past girlfriends, on Mary, on that gorgeous woman from Tesco, but their blond locks morphed into dark curls, their curves into long, smooth plains and when he remembered those Cupid's bow lips twist into a sexy half-smirk he came so hard he couldn't help but groan loudly as his pleasure shook him.

Two days later they made the front page.

They had been deemed the most well-known public figures in Britain, thanks to the many websites that were now dedicated to them. It was enough for the police to want Sherlock's input on cases again, as the Met's popularity was rapidly decreasing with the newest string of serial murders.

"Sherlock, it's great to see you again-"

"Spare me the sentimental expose Lestrade, I'm here for the case."

John followed the billowing coat to the spot where the latest victim was. A woman in her mid-thirties, naked except for a pink tutu, was suspended from the ceiling of her kitchen with thick ropes. Her hands and one leg were bound together in a caricature of a ballerina's pose. "The Puppet Master", as the author of these serial murders had been dubbed, had left a note this time, addressed to Sherlock: _Come dance for me!_

"Is this... Him?" John had asked, his jaw set.

"Jim Moriarty is quite dead, John. But it might be a copycat. Not enough data."

It turned out the serial killer was a salesman with a psychotic disorder and a fascination for Tchaikovsky. Sherlock solved the case in less than three hours and the papers were demanding interviews and photo shoots with the rehabilitated hero and his "partner".

"So everything went just as we expected?"

Devin sipped her tea. She and Alex were sitting on the sofa in 221B looking quite smug. Their project to restore Sherlock's career to its former glory had succeeded in little more than a month.

"Quite."

"He means thank you. What you did is truly amazing, although everyone thinks we're together _like that_. Again."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and the two Americans giggled.

"So, you know, you can... take it down now."

"Oh I don't know..." Devin put her cup down and fixed him with her best serious face.

"I think it's too big to be stopped."

"Besides," Alex added, "it could prove even more profitable later on."

"Yes, you've seen the benefits of having devoted fans on the Internet."

"And who knows, maybe you'd enjoy the project more if you had a more active role in it."

"A more... what exactly do you mean?" John dreaded the answer to his question.

"Well, I know you're not half-bad as a writer..." Devin began and looked at her friend for confirmation. "You could, I don't know... try it out on the website."

"What? You mean... That I should write... No!" John spluttered and met Sherlock's eyes for support.

Sherlock arranged his body in a thoughtful pose, but John could see the mirth crinkling the corners of his eyes.

"I think it's an excellent idea, John. You could even become a professional, under a pseudonym, of course."

John's protest was interrupted by Devin's polite cough.

"There's the small matter of payment..." Devin turned towards Sherlock.

"If you remember, the arrangement was that, if the project was a success, and it obviously is, you would send us-"

"Yes, yes, I remember." Sherlock waved a hand impatiently. "Expect it later this evening."

"But Sherlock-"

"It was not specified that it should be delivered _live_, as it were."

"Well... no, but-"

"Good day then, Devin. Alex."

John looked confused between the disappointed girls and the inscrutable detective.

"John, here's your AO3 account and password, in case you change your mind."

Alex handed him a slip of paper with a wink and then the two of them left.

"What was that all about?" John demanded.

Sherlock seemed to consider the question for a few moments before answering.

"John, how do you feel about the contents of their website?"

John swallowed nervously.

"Uh... What do you mean?"

"You obviously don't find the scenarios offensive as you have been regularly checking for updates in the past few days. Also your behavior towards me has altered somewhat and your body language suggests arousal. Still, I understand it is preferable to ask first: would you be adverse to some of these scenarios becoming true?"

John stood there gaping, not believing his ears.

"Are you asking me to... You want to know if..."

"If you want to have sex with me John, yes."

John realized he was supposed to give some sort of answer but all he could do was stare at that mouth and imagine running his tongue over the pale lips until they were red and wet and-

"Oh for god's sake..."

John barely registered as Sherlock got up, took two large steps across the room and placed his knees on either side of John's thighs. He automatically reached one hand to steady him and it seemed to firmly hold on to Sherlock's hip with no intention of letting go. Sherlock smiled and ran a finger down the side of John's cheek, tracing his jugular and resting in the hollow of his throat.

"Let's see now..."

Sherlock sucked his lower lip into his mouth and spread his other hand on John's chest, moving slowly towards the bulge in his jeans. When John gasped he leaned down and brushed his lips to John's chastely, then again, a little slower, until John moaned and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him in for a deeper kiss.

"Bed?"

"Mine," Sherlock said, voice an octave lower than his usual baritone and John almost whimpered.

"Did you get all that from the Internet?"

"Mmm" Sherlock ran a lazy finger across John's scar.

"Thorough research and observation are essential, John. You seemed to enjoy the fruits of my labor."

"Among other things," John chuckled and stroked Sherlock's hair.

Sherlock picked up his phone and snapped a picture of them, then wrote a quick message and threw his phone somewhere at the foot of the bed.

"What was that?"

"Payment," Sherlock answered and nibbled John's collarbone. "You should send a thank-you gift too."

"You mean... Oh my god, really?"

Sherlock's answer came so close to John's ear he could feel the swollen lips as he spoke.

"It's their merit, at least in part. You should take them up on their offer."

_John groaned loudly as Sherlock took him in his mouth._

_"Oh god yes, like that..."_

_Sherlock hummed around his erection and swallowed him to the root, massaging his balls with his talented fingers. When the detective pressed against his perineum, John exploded in his mouth without warning, shouting his release as Sherlock milked him with his mouth and fingers. _

_"Beautiful" Sherlock breathed as he took himself in hand and with a few efficient strokes brought himself to orgasm, coating both of them in his seed. _

_As they lay spent, John felt like the luckiest man in the world. _

"You forgot to emphasize your impressive size and my surprising lack of a gag reflex," Sherlock commented idly as he took the cup of tea from John's fingers.

"Apologies," John bowed and snatched the laptop from Sherlock. "Should I really send it though?"

"Why not? It would be tremendous fun to watch how people react to it. And it's not as though anyone but Alex and Devin know who you are."

**End notes: **The fanfic that John reads is the amazing _A Cure for Boredom _by Emma Grant, you should read it right now if you haven't already. Reviews would make me very happy :)


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